


I Substitute My Own!

by greyscalemuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Also known as the massive duct tape fix-it, Fix-It, Implied Johnlock, TFP fix-it, The Final Problem, With optional Johnlock fulfillment, meta-fic, rated for the questionable content featured in this clusterfuck of an episode, you'll understand when you read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscalemuse/pseuds/greyscalemuse
Summary: "I reject your reality and substitute my own!"This is a massive fix-it where I try to take the barest bones of the plot presented in BBC Sherlock's The Final Problem and try to make it work.You tell me if I achieved that or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. I made this post on Tumblr, but for readability purposes I decided to also upload it here.
> 
> Some background from the original post:  
> I spent most of my childhood (well, all, really) listening to my dad spout off things he would have done to improve a movie or a show by keeping the general idea, but presenting it in a better manner. This could have been just with a line, a character action, a scene change - anything. Simple fixes that would have nudged a story in a better direction. I started dabbling with this as I got older. It’s become a quirk.
> 
> No surprise, over a week after TFP, the inspiration to give it the same kind of treatment randomly hit me while I was at work.
> 
> So - the essential concept behind this fix-it is keeping the general idea of TFP the same but change events enough so it doesn’t feel so awkward tacked on at the end of a Sherlock season. This is designed to depict Sherlock’s evolution into a better man by using what we were always told would improve him - his relationship with John. It is by no means perfect, but I hope it at least an improvement. Hopefully it’s not too cheesy? 
> 
> This is not a full on fic - this is mostly what I'm going to call a "meta-fic" - it is a compilation of notes, scenes, and thoughts that I have clustered together. I have also added some things that I left out in the original post accidentally.
> 
> Either way - I hope you enjoy my very long and robust potato.

**It all begins after Euros’ gun goes off.**

John stumbles backwards, gripping his leg, to which Euros just rolls her eyes. “Buck up,” she quips, “I thought you were a soldier. Being shot should be easy.” She hoists him up and keeps the gun trained on him. “Don’t try anything funny. I’d hate your daughter to be an orphan… or… at least you would hate it, I’m sure.”

John complies and allows Euros to lead him out.

“Where are we even going?”

“Sherrinford.”

**(roll opening credits)**

Cut to Sherlock finding the unconscious psychiatrist. He paces through the house a few times, obviously worried. He strides back into the sitting room, eyes trained to the bullet casing on the rug, deduction stuck in his head before he finally averts his eyes and looks at his phone. He then makes a call.

“What could you possibly be calling for? You never call.”

“I need your help, Mycroft.”

“I told you before that you were running low on favors.”

“Not a favor, Mycroft. Help. I need _help.”_

The panic in Sherlock’s voice alarms Mycroft and he softens noticeably.

“Sherlock? Where are you? What’s happened?”

“John’s therapist’s. There’s a woman unconscious, bound in the closet - I’m assuming the actual owner of this house. Sitting room empty aside from the usual furniture - save for a discarded contact lens… bullet… bullet casing… and slight discoloration on the red rug that could only be… blood.”

“How much blood?”

“I can’t get a hold of him…”

“Sherlock. Focus. How much blood?”

“Not enough to be fatal. I don’t think.”

“Stay where you are. I’m picking you up.”

* * *

**In the car**

Sherlock shows Mycroft the letter left by the fake Faith Culverton. (”So it wasn’t a delusion?” “Unless my delusions can materialize notes that say ‘miss me’ when illuminated by black light… although if that were the case, then Wiggins truly is a wasted talent.”) and during their discussion, Mycroft suddenly figures it out.

“Oh. Now how would she have gotten loose?”

“Who?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

“Where?”

“That’s part of the story…” **  
**

(the story is essentially the same - only without the crazy suggestion of possible mind powers - but basics. You have a sister, she was very smart, she did terrible stuff, she’s been locked away etc.)

* * *

**Fast forward to Sherrinford**

News of a fire at Baker St reaches Mycroft and Sherlock when they arrive. Thankfully, no one was injured, but the apartment has been scorched. Spurred on by the knowledge that his younger and incredibly manipulative sister has John (who is hopefully alive) and is mostly likely responsible for the burning of his home (somehow), Sherlock lets Mycroft handle the Governor and moves straight to the holding cell. That’s when he finally meets her officially - no disguises.

Euros playing the violin.

He interrupts her when she tries to say hello.

“Where’s John?”

“Well, you’re certainly straight to the point.”

“Consider it one of my better qualities. Now, what have you done with John?”

“Relax. He’s fine. For now, anyway.”

“Where is he?”

“Do as I say - play my little game - and I can help you find him.”

“Is that part of the deal? I do what you want and you tell me where he is?”

“I never said there was a deal. Deal implies choice. No. You will listen to me or he dies. Much like Redbeard. Remember?”

Sherlock visibly flinches but he draws himself up straight and takes a deep breath before he finally agrees.

“Fine. I’ll play your game. For John.”

Euros grins and the game begins.

She asks Sherlock to take her violin and play. The banter is very similar. ([feel free to insert my 6 second fix it in place of Euros’ weird confession to rape and possible mutilation of her victim if you so wish](http://coloringthegreyscale.tumblr.com/post/155943556270/6-second-dialogue-fix-that-could-have-improved-tfp) and [check out the gorgeous gif set](http://drunksteverogers.tumblr.com/post/156130862397/6-second-dialogue-fix-that-could-have-improved) that @drunksteverogers made for it. Or - Sherlock could just admit to never having sex, depending on your headcanon. I think are both valid points. I just want him to answer the damn question definitively Now back to your regularly scheduled fix-it)

When Sherlock is done playing, he lowers the violin and looks at her and in a very rushed and desperate whisper he asks “Now can I speak to John?”

Euros groans, exasperated, and taps her foot before stepping over the partition where there was only the illusion of glass and walks up to Sherlock. She rolls her eyes at his shocked expression. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know already. It’s tedious.”

And just as she reaches out and knocks him unconscious, Mycroft is yelling in the ear piece in his ear.

“She’s got the Governor’s wife! Sherlock! She’s…”

* * *

**In The Three Garridebs Room**

(note: I play with the order of these rooms because the original doesn’t make much sense in the context of this fix-it. For obvious reasons, I’m sure.)

When Mycroft and Sherlock wake up, they find themselves in a concrete room with a large window and the Governor leaning against the wall. He is watching them carefully, with a very shaky grasp on a gun that he keeps trained on them. Before Sherlock can move to disarm him, Euros appears on a monitor and tuts at him softly.

“Tsk tsk, Sherlock. One wrong move and you don’t get to speak to your friend. And please, not that it matters, but don’t hold any harsh feelings for The Governor. His stakes are as high as yours.” She spins around to show that she has his wife bound behind her and then smiles. Sherlock flounders a bit but finds he’s unable to respond so he just stands still, his eyes fixed on the monitor, and waits. Euros heaves a dramatic sigh and picks at some controls in front of her. “Oh fine. If you wish.” There’s some static and she interrupts John before he can actually speak. “Now John, remember what I said - if you give away anything about where you are before you are told, my brothers die.” She jerks her head as a signal and the Governor steadies his hand and takes a shot at the window, just to prove the seriousness of the matter. “Mycroft can go quick, but I’ll be sure to make Sherlock’s suffering last. Though I’m sure he’s fairly use to being shot by now.” There’s a silence as the memory of Sherlock’s death experience looms between all of them. “Alright then, I suppose I should let you speak. But be quick. We have a lot to do.”

“John? John are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Euros gives John a soft (though irritated) ‘I’ll allow it’ before he answers. “Just my leg Sherlock. I’m… fine. Given the circumstances… I just have to make sure…”

“Cheating, Doctor Watson.” Euros interrupts, “Alright, gentlemen. It’s time to move along to my experiment - my game. Let’s see how you do, shall we?”

Euros goes through the rules of the room - The Three Garridebs challenge is set up the same. Sherlock needs to solve the case that only Euros has figured out so far. John is allowed to stay on the line - as Sherlock’s “phone a friend” so to speak - and he listens patiently as the events are described to him. Mycroft offers his own intel but it all comes down to the gun.

“John, I need your help identifying the rifle.”

“You can’t do it yourself?”

Sherlock hesitates and then clears his throat. “I… deleted my information on firearms after… after I was shot. It proved useless in that situation and I assumed…” he falters until John coaxes him softly ‘and?’ “I always assumed that I could rely on your knowledge on the subject if needed.”

With a quiet ‘okay’ John tells Sherlock what he needs to do to identify the rifle, asking questions along the way (Mycroft offering answers when Sherlock fails to offer a detailed enough response) before finally identifying it and adding:

“Rifle like that would have quite the recoil…”

And with that, Sherlock can make his deductions and solve the case.

It’s with clenched fists that Sherlock watch the two innocent brothers fall and the guilty one fall afterwards and he listens to Euros mock John’s outrage. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath.

“John?”

“ _What?” (John is angry)_

“We’re soldiers today, do you understand?”

“That doesn’t make this okay.”

“No. But it’ll get us through it. Will it not?” There’s a pause. “Soldiers?” And an audible sigh.

“Soldiers.”

* * *

**The Coffin Room**

Euros cuts John off again once they move on, but insists that he can still hear, he just can’t speak. When Sherlock asks why it’s necessary, Euros offers “You’ll see” before she starts to lay out the rules of this particular puzzle. As Sherlock begins to try to deduce who the coffin is for, Mycroft offers his suggestions (”The Woman?” “No. Love isn’t really her style. At least, not with me.” “Love means many things… Could it be Mrs. Hudson?” “Given the nature of the game we’re playing? I very much doubt motherly love is the topic…”)

As Sherlock ticks off the list (Unmarried, practical about death, lonely…) he reaches the only remaining option.

“Molly.”

“Hooper? The pathologist? Certainly not…” Mycroft scoffs but then he pales at how serious Sherlock looks. “Oh… Sherlock. Why would she…”

Sherlock dismisses Mycroft with a wave and a glare before the second phase of the puzzle is set into motion.

(now - do not be cross, but I did not change Sherlock and Molly’s interaction for the sake of this fix-it, though I know there are many great fix-its out there that have. Please feel free to substitute whichever you prefer, but know that I plan to handle the scene as-is later. My opinions on the callousness of this scene have not changed. It’s still disgusting. But I’m gonna work with it.)

As Sherlock obliterates the coffin in his rage, John is allowed to speak again.

“Sherlock? Sherlock!”

“What?”

“You need to move.”

“I hate this. Running around like lab rats… all for what point? To prove I’m clever?”

“Sherlock, I realize you’re hurting but need I remind you - this is not about just you. We’re all… being threatened. We’re all dancing. So for the sake of getting out alive - so I can get back to Rosie and you can… apologize to Molly… and we can go home - please… I’m begging. Soldiers. Remember?”

Sherlock stands and looks over at Mycroft and the Governor who are standing by.

“Soldiers. For you.”

* * *

**The Final Puzzle (Problem)**

Euros’ final puzzle is simple: Mycroft and Sherlock have two choices. They can choose to escape and find John on their own, or they can shoot the Governor and find out where John is. If the Governor lives, his wife and Euros’ hostage, will die.

They begin their debate.

Mycroft tries, but falters, ultimately unable to pull the trigger (“Not really an Iceman, are you? All show.” Euros mocks) so Sherlock takes up the gun. He readies it and aims, all the while the Governor thanking him. He’s taken a life for John’s sake before, he can do it again. But John pleads with him not to.

“Sherlock. Don’t. God, don’t.”

“You know how it feels to lose a wife, John. Do you wish the same on him?”

“Don’t bring that up. Don’t you dare. That’s not why you’re going to pull the trigger, admit it.”   

“I can’t find you if I don’t kill him, John.”

“You could. If anyone could find me on nothing, you could. Don’t. Please, God, Sherlock - don’t. You’ve done enough. You understand? You. Have. Done. Enough. This is enough.”

Just as Sherlock begins to lower the gun, in a panic, the Governor grabs Sherlock’s hand and finishes the job, effectively shooting himself. When Euros shoots his wife in response, she spins and faces the monitor but not before cutting off John’s feed.

“Well. I suppose that’s that. Not exactly the ending I’d hoped for, but none the less. We’re here.”

Sherlock drops the gun and stares at it, feeling hollow until Mycroft takes his shoulder and keeps him still.

“I believe that is entirely inaccurate, Sister dear.”

“I honestly do _not_  know what you are blathering about, but do enlighten me.”

“Sherlock and I are still in this room. We have not escaped and we don’t intend to. The Governor’s death and his wife are inconsequential - we are still in this room, so we intend to keep playing. Now, let us talk to John.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“You said it yourself - in the end, it didn’t matter. The wife is dead, despite the death of her husband. Your callousness has changed your own rules. We are no longer responsible for his death - as long as we remain in this room, you must let us speak to John.”

Euros relents, allowing John to give one clue where he is - however, if he gives away more than one and if he gives away his location directly - then her brothers shall be locked away. And Holmes children do not do well in locked rooms with their own thoughts.

“I’m in water,” John offers and then is cut off again.

“There you have it - brothers - the rest is up to you.”

The two Holmes brothers then begin to try to narrow it down, Sherlock doing his best to map it out in his head, while Mycroft offers his suggestions.

When Euros lets John speak, he warns that the water level has slowly started to rise. What was once closer to his lower calves was creeping dangerously close to his knees at a very steady pace.

When the panic of this revelation sets in - that’s when Euros starts to sing.

The song on how to find the missing Redbeard.

This is what makes it click for Mycroft but before he can provide the answer to Sherlock, Euros cuts him off. “I can tell when you’re ahead, brother. Say anything you like, but give him the answer and it all stops. No more second chances.”

Sherlock looks at Mycroft helplessly and the eldest brother flounders before he finally starts to share memories of Sherlock when they were children.

“Musgrave…” Sherlock whispers before he grabs Mycroft’s shoulders. “The funny graveyard. Quick! What were on the tombstones? I know you remember. Tell me!” (note: in my head, Mycroft has a photographic memory)

As Mycroft begins to recite the dates, Sherlock traces the numbers on the floor so he can see them somehow visually. The song sung in the back of his head he begins to line up the words with the dates until he finally comes across the message hidden - and at the end:

“Seek My Room…” Sherlock whispered and spun around to face her. “This? All of this? Redbeard? The house? And this entire puzzle? Just a cry to get my attention?”

“At first, maybe,” Euros admits. “But now? Just a way to pass the time.”

“You’ve killed people. You’ve toyed with their emotions. You’ve dragged people through hell for your amusement…”

“Like you!” Euros spat back, “And like you, I find this boring. You’re no closer to finding your friend. Pick up the pace”

Sherlock shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “How is an old song suppose to help me now?”

“Sherlock, think. Focus,” Mycroft offers. “Take the lyrics apart piece by piece - they have no meaning anymore. What is the result?”

Sherlock snapped a few times and pressed his fingers to his lips. “Room. Her room. Mycroft! Was there anything unusual about her room?”

Mycroft slowly sifts through his memories before he stares back. “A mural. There was a mural. Of a forest. Similar to the one near the house and in the middle was…” he trails off and Sherlock picks up his thought.

“A well. The well Mummy and Daddy would never let us go near on the property… That’s where John is!”

There’s a slow clap resounding behind them, “Well I suppose you get your prize then. Your belongings are waiting for you just outside the room. I certainly hope you can get to Doctor Watson in time.”

Mycroft grabs Sherlock’s elbow. “Go. I’ll get security back into place here.”

Sherlock nods in agreement and rushes off to retrieve his blogger.

* * *

Sherlock is waiting at the top of the well as John is pulled out (he didn’t need to be chained the the bottom of the well because his injured leg wouldn’t allow him to get very far - see what I did there?). He’s barely out before Sherlock pulls him into an embrace. “Sherlock, are you crying?”

Sherlock doesn’t respond at first, he just holds on tighter.

Cut to John sitting on the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a blanket as a paramedic finishes checking over his wound (he still has to go to the hospital, as it looks like it may have gotten infected). Sherlock is looming next to him, an orange blanket draped over his shoulders. Greg checks in on them and gives an update on the situation in Sherrinford.

"So, a sociopathic sister - I guess that explains just about everything..." Greg offers, partly trying to joke - mostly failing. Sherlock offers him a very weak smile before Greg continues, "Your brother says she's secure for now. He'll fill you in on the details once he makes sure she stays that way..." Sherlock nods, thanks Greg, and then asks him if he would take care of Mycroft. Greg, slightly perplexed by the request and the use of his name, just agrees and excuses himself.

John clears his throat and nods his head in Greg's direction, "So do you believe that?"

"What?"

"That she's the reason for it all? You're the way you are today because of your sister?"

And Sherlock shoots him that smile, tips his chin up, and replies -

"I'd prefer to believe that I am the way I am today because of you." 

* * *

**In John’s Hospital Room**

“How’d things go with Molly?”

“I can’t say she understood, really. I mean… she did, but… it’s not that simple. She doesn’t hate me, so I suppose there is that. It’s a work in progress. It’ll take time. I’m on catsitting duty for awhile and I’ve officially run out of favors at the morgue… but I promised if I came across a good match for her, I would send them her way.”

“Them?”

“It was a long and revealing conversation.” John nods with an ‘ah’ and they both exchange smiles. John breeches the topic of Euros as carefully as he can. 

“So… and your sister? She was the one who sent Moriarty out to start this whole thing?”

“And she finished it, yes. I suppose we’re off the hook for now in that respect.”

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“New staff has been appointed. She remains locked up. I have agreed to take on more of the cases Mycroft throws my way so he doesn’t have to continue to appease her for her help. She’s asked me to visit. I haven’t replied as of yet.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“Aren’t you the one who says I should think less of myself?”

“In most cases? Yes. In this one? No.” John fidgets a bit, trying to get himself comfortable. “I found bones at the bottom of the well, Sherlock…”

Sherlock nods numbly.

“They weren’t dog bones…”

“I know…” Sherlock replies with a hoarse whisper. “They belong to Victor Trevor. A missing boy. Old case… and my best friend when I was a child.”

At the admission, John reaches over and takes Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock averts his eyes and stares down at the wedding ring that John still wears. “John. I want to apologize for bringing up Mar-”

“No.” John shakes his head and sighs. “No. You know what? I’m tired of hearing ‘sorry’ from you. We’ll talk everything through when I get home the best we can.”

They sit in silence before Sherlock finally asks.

“John?”

“Hm?”

“Do you mean… Baker Street? I mean, I understand if you’d rather stay at your own, I know the stairs aren’t easy but… with you and Rosie and your currently living arrangement I would really much rather…” John holds up his hand and offers Sherlock a smile.

“My leg is going to heal, just so you know. But yeah… Once I’m out of this hospital, I’m coming back to 221B. I told you… we would go home when we got out alive. That’s what soldiers do.”

“Good… good. I could use your help… you know… tidying it up.”

* * *

Sherlock receives a Stradivarius from Mycroft (She refuses to play. Quite frankly, she doesn’t deserve it) to replace his being damaged in the fire. (Consider it pirate’s booty). As he begins to play it, the montage begins - and John is the narrator.

_The “montage” is very similar to the one that was featured in the original - except instead of Sherlock’s duet with Euros, it is Sherlock playing the Stradivarius on his own, and the footage of Mary’s DVD is removed - instead being replaced by John typing on his laptop, obviously writing up the next blog post. John and Sherlock rebuilding 221B remains, you see them take cases, the parade of familiar characters stays the same (only this time with the added Mycroft - who looks immensely put upon, as usual), and so forth. Except, instead of John and Sherlock darting off from Rathbone Place, you see Sherlock take a bow in front of an applauding John and Rosie (or more like - John is trying to get Rosie to clap but Rosie is very unsure of this)._

**John's narration:  
** “We built 221B back up - to its original legacy and to reflect who we are now. We continued on our ridiculous adventures as two men against the world, while trying their best to father a daughter who was growing up far too quickly. And as our lives took shape, and we learned from our past, we found old wounds that only each other’s company could soothe. Both junkies in our own right, we finally found our slow way to sobriety in the only way we knew how - side-by-side. 

Mrs. Hudson calls us her “Baker Street Boys” - but I can tell you, that we are undeserving of such a title.

Because Baker Street has become a sacred place - where an army doctor stepped onto the battlefield and finally left behind the war and a great man learned to become a good one - and I can only hope that it’s other residents will ever be so lucky.

To finally find the Sherlock Holmes for their John Watson.”

* * *

_(The following scene in optional for Johnlock shippers and TJLCers. I changed my mind about this three times, I certainly hope this final one suffices.)_

**2 Years Later…**

John is sitting on a park bench, typing on his open laptop. A little blonde girl around 3 years old, crawls up next to him. “Daddy! Papa says laptops are indoor things! This is outdoors!”

“Papa should consider his own advice and put away that cell phone of his… please don’t stand on the bench, Rosie, you’ll hurt yourself and.. what is on your dress?”

“I found a mud puddle!” Rosie holds up her hands and grins - she has thin flecks of mud splattered across her palms all the way up to her elbows. “See?”

John sighs and looks up as Sherlock jogs up and offers a sheepish smile. “Sorry. She… got away from me.”

“Had nothing to do with you fiddling with your phone, I’m sure. Who have you been texting?”

“Greg. He’s bothering me.”

“He appreciates your help.”

“Yes. Well. If anyone asks me for more wedding advice, I’m going to start charging an hourly rate.”

“I think you’re quite good at it. Maybe something to consider when the criminals get too fast. Sherlock Holmes - consulting matchmaker and wedding planner.”

“Shut up.” - but the smile makes it hard to take him seriously. Sherlock pulls his coat tighter around himself - the Belstaff is retired, threadbare and slightly charred with a few punctures from a thankfully nonfatal stabbing incident, and hangs in the back of the closet - in its stead is a long black double-breasted peacoat that has become Sherlock’s new signature.

Sherlock offers a hand to help John to his feet, and John accepts it, smiling at the tiny kiss his partner decides to sneak onto his lips. “Your daughter is on the move. We better hurry to catch up.”

“Lead the way.”

As they dart off after Rosie, the camera pans back to show the sign for "Rathbone Park"

**_To The Greatest Love Story Ever Told_ **

**Author's Note:**

> *roll credits*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fix-it. Thank you kindly for reading!


End file.
